Bitter Iron
by The Warsmith
Summary: This is of the Pre-heresy Iron Warriors and one of the many sad events that led to their eventual fall to Chaos. Enjoy... Comments appreciated.


Bitter Iron

This is the world of Celephorn.

It is a lost world at the very edge of the first great crusade. A world whose human overlords had chosen not to bow to the might of the great fleets that had arrived not more than a month ago to bring it back into the fold of the infant Imperium. And to add insult to injury, the delegation of unarmed diplomats dispatched planet side to negotiate with the overlords were brutally executed in a bloody public display of autonomy. Such a brazen act of resistance could not go unanswered and the fleet responded in the way that it did best, brute force. Whole cities were pounded to dust by sustained orbital barrages and ravening energy lance strikes. Though its orbital defense grid had been crippled in the opening salvo, leaving the planet helpless in the face of the relentless bombardment, Celephorn was not without its surprises.

Constructed during the Dark Age of Technology eons ago, the planet's capital fortress, known as the Spire, was protected by a hitherto-unknown form of energy shielding that had held-off the worst of the damage and safe within the fastness of its sprawling confines the overlords waited, confident in the knowledge that they would be able to be able to weather the storm and that the Imperial fleet did not have the ability to take the fort, or so they thought for within hours of the last orbital strike, a swarm of landing barges had made planet fall to bring the populace of Celephorn into the arms of the Imperium at the point of a bolter. With the majority of the planet reeling from the devastation of the orbital bombardment, there was little to fear from any kind of organized resistance save that of the last fortress. The nature of the Spire meant that any attempt to take it would involve a lengthy and grueling besiegement; fortunately those that had been assigned to topple the Shire were the most formidable siege specialists of the entire Emperor's crusade. They were the fourth founding legion of the Adeptus Astartes; they were the Iron Warriors and at their head marched a god among men.

Though they were the most competent of siege specialists, it did not mean the Iron Warriors had an easy mission bringing down the mountain sized fortress. It had taken them a week to construct the first parallel around the monstrous complex using huge earth turning machines as well as the entire legion of twenty thousand genetically enhanced warriors, before the fist series of saps could be dug to create a new parallel. There would be four parallel in all, the first just out of the Spire's cannon range where ordnance, fuel and supplies would be stocked, the second parallel was one of necessity and was to push just within the Spire's energy field, digging a sap too far into enemy territory was always a mistake and the second parallel was to provide cover in the kill zone of the Spires formidable weaponry, a third parallel would be then be necessary to bring the artillery pieces close enough for the specialized siege cannons to be properly brought to bear. Finally work on the fourth parallel would only begin once all the Spire's long range cannons had been neutralized, and from there digging would begin on a series of mines designed to bring down larger areas of wall than would be normal with a regular artillery barrage.

It was backbreaking work that had its fair share of danger from forays from the well trained and equipped saboteurs of the Spire to air bursting plasma shells fired from the Spire's guns that bathed entire areas of trench with the heat of the sun, the hissing matter searing through armor, flesh and bone with equal ease. It was not sure the quantity of ordnance stocked within the spire but the constant cough of macro-ranged cannon fire along its walls meant that it was definitely constructed to hold out against a long drawn out besiegement. But still the Iron Warriors pressed on with their legendary grit and after two month of bloody progress the fourth parallel had been finished at the cost of three hundred lives, then it was time for those within the Spire to feel the wrath of defying the Iron Warriors. Sustained volleys of Earth Shaker shells pounded the Spire's walls; their specially designed siege shells causing shockwaves that pulverized and brought down vast swathes of masonry, the energy field that had made the walls impervious now proving to be absolutely useless, the cannons that had so ruthlessly cut down the Imperials reduced to twisted ruins weeks before. Three months after the first act of defiance, the time of reckoning had come.

Within his mobile fortress, Perturabo, Primarch and founding father of the Iron Warriors had called a final briefing with his trusted officers on how they were to strike and break open the Spire now that they had so painfully won the ability to do so. His armor had been scorched where a lucky siege shell from the Spire had struck him, the white hot wash of plasma had blackened the his armor but such was the might of the Primarch and his personally crafted suit of armor that he had walked out of the blazing inferno that would have annihilated a lesser man, requiring little help or treatment.

Morale was high as the Iron Warriors debated what role they were to play in this hard fought campaign, the months of labor finally paying off.

"With the Spire's cannons neutralized, I have ordered the legion's cannons moved to strike its walls at their salient angle, I estimate that it would take no more than several minute to break them open at our current rate of shelling." Perturabo recognized the Iron Warrior to be Warsmith-Epistolary Toramino, his master of artillery. It had been Tormino's role in the war to direct the firepower of Iron Warriors and he had done so with consummate skill.

"My company have successfully constructed a series of mines underneath the Spire's outer walls, those walls went down nearly fifty meters underground by the Gods, but we got under them. It was too risky to attempt to create a breaching tunnel unfortunately, but even as we speak my men are packing the mines full of explosives. When the time comes the ordnance will be detonated in time with Warsmith Toramino's guns first creating the breach, the resultant shockwave significantly widening it." It was another Warsmith, Ferrous Ironclaw who Perturabo had entrusted his second Grand Company with.

"My Grand Company and I look forward to it," Boomed a giant Iron Warrior beside him that he instantly knew to be that of Berossus, the Iron Warrior Captain charged with leading the assault, his superior was still in the Apothercariate after wounds sustained from repelling a surprise attack from the Spire's soldiery. More than two and a half meters tall, the fearsome Iron Warrior clenched his monstrous powerfists, clearly relishing the thought of imminent combat after the long months of work. "And when you bring those walls down I will lead my men to take the breach and hold it long enough for the rest of the legion to join us in slaughtering these bastard heretics!"

"Yes, my warriors." Perturabo finally said, instantly hushing his officers, "The time has come to bring the Emperor's holy vengeance upon the vile overlords of this planet. I know that these few months have been extremely trying and yet you all have held together to see us through to this moment, our… no… your crowning achievement. I am proud beyond all measure." His speech drawing a cheer from assembled officers.

"High Warsmith! We could not have done this without you to guide us!" A recently promoted Iron Warrior Terminator Lieutenant, Perturabo knew to be Forrix roared over the cheers.

"This a great day for the Imperium and the Emperor of man, blessed be his name! Go now my warriors and make preparations for the final battle on this world, our finest hour!" Bellowed Perturabo, raising his fist. "Iron Within!"

The rest of the officers did likewise, punching their fists in the air and roared at the top of their voices, "Iron Without!"

It had been hours since the Spire's walls had been shelled to ruin, coupled with the detonation of tones of ordnance in the mines deep below the ground had created a massive breach fully a kilometer across. But instead of the glorious charge of the Iron Warriors that was expected. There were no war cries, no clash of steel to steel, just a threatening silence.

Back on board the goliath, city sized Centurio Ordinatus, the Iron of Olympia, which was the command fortress for Perturabo another giant stood before him, this one in pristine yellow armor. His name was Rogal Dorn and he was Primarch and Lord of the Imperial Fists, another legion of the Adeptus Astartes.

"Greetings brother Dorn. What brings you and your legion here?" Perturabo bowed.

Dorn merely inclined his head at the greeting, a mere acknowledgement rather than a return of respect. "Brother Perturabo, my legion and I come on the Emperor's business."

"Of course, Brother Dorn. And may I inquire what business that may be?"

"You may. Brother Perterabo, it is the Emperor's will that you and your legion's presence are required on another planet in the nearby sector; the planet's populace has been roused to heretical uprising and it has been deemed necessary for the a body of siege specialists to dig them out and bring the holy might of the Emperor's wrath down upon them."

Perturabo's heart sank, 'No' he thought to himself, 'Not again, not now'.

"And it his divine wish that the Iron Warriors take up the task of bringing them under their heel, you and your legion will be seconded to brother Guilliman of the Ultramarines who is already present planetside. The Iron Warriors are the leave as soon as possible."

"What about the siege, brother Dorn? My legion has already split open their defenses and we are prepared to take the Spire." Perturabo said, bitter anger beginning to boil in his heart, as he already knew the answer.

"There is not enough time for that. My legion and I will take it from here." Dorn's tone was emotionless and yet still Perturabo heard a hint of mocking amusement behind it.

Tears of rage and frustration began to well in his eyes and Perturabo was glad that his helmet obscured them. He has to steady himself before he spoke for fear of his voice breaking with the emotion that he felt.

"But we have spent months here and have lost lives for these bastard heretic's defiance! The honor of breaking the siege should go to the Iron Warriors. Brother Dorn you are an accomplished master of siege yourself, are you not? Why isn't it that you are there with Brother Guilliman assisting him?"

Dorn's fists bunched with irritation, " What I am is irrelevant, brother Perturabo. I am here merely because the Emperor wills it. Just as he wills you to prepare your legion to move out, I follow my orders, as they are the will of the Emperor, would you defy his orders? Would you defy his will?"

To be lectured by this yellowed armored imbecile on proper service to the Emperor after the long bloody months of siege work was a grave offense and Perturabo felt the anger inside him build up to uncontrollable levels, but he swiftly clamped bands of mental iron around it and held it down, allowing it smolder dangerously in his heart. He gritted his teeth and fought down a roar of frustration before speaking, his voice lowered to a threatening growl, "No brother Dorn, I would not."

Dorn took a step forward and stared at Perturabo helmet to helmet, "I asked you, would you defy his will?"

"I said no! I would not!" Perturabo thundered, his anger at the Imperial Fist and subsequent humiliation at his hand threatening to overwhelm him, but again he was justable to control himself.

"Good. See to it that your legion is ready to move out within the day. The Emporer be praised!" Dorn said, stepping away and walking to the exit of the command bridge.

"Yes, the Emporer be praised." Perturabo repeated his voice a whisper. The words tasting like bile in his throat.

Just as he was about to leave, Dorn turned, "Oh, and one more thing. The Emperor has requested I hand this to you." He reached for a bag tied to his belt and tossed it to Perturabo, who caught it and pulled out an elaborately carved stone token.

"It is in appreciation for your service to Imperium of Man. He also bade me tell you and your legion that the honor of taking the last fortress belongs to the Iron Warriors for their efforts in this campaign." And without a further word, Dorn strode out leaving Perturabo to ponder this unexpected gift.

'Chaos take you, Dorn you bastard. Not even you believe the words put into your mouth by that fool.' Perturabo whispered quietly to himself, staring at the token for long minutes, his thoughts afire. It was a gesture of gratitude yes, but of what kind? He had seen this sort of token before, it was a common commendation that was produced by the millions for the smallest kinds of achievement, from hitting every target during a firing drill in basic training to the completion of a course in one of the multitude of military academies throughout the Imperium. It was not a token of appreciation; it was a trinket, nothing more. Nothing compared to the praise, pomp and ceremony heaped upon the other Primarchs for lesser accomplishments. This was more of an insult than anything and the rage in Perturabo's heart threatened to explode again as he stared at that useless piece of rock.

The chiming of his commnet interrupted his thoughts. "Yes?" He hissed.

"High Warsmith, there are Imperial Fists here. Is what they are saying true? That we are to move off planet by today while they take the charge to the siege?"

"It is true, Warsmith Toramino. Relay my confirmation to the rest of the legion." Perturabo said through clenched teeth as the dishonor of what was about to happen began to beat on his mind again.

There was a brief silence before Toramino's voice came though again, laced with bitter disappointment "Yes High Warsmith. Iron Within. Iron Without."

Perturabo did not answer and flicked off his channel, tearing his helmet off his head and tossing it onto the table. Stalking over, he stared at the stone token still gripped in his gauntleted hand before putting it down next to his helmet. With slow purpose, he removed his siege hammer from the wall next to him and felt its weight in his grip. This was the tool of warrior just as he was a tool to that fool that sat in Terra and sent him and his legion into the jaws of hell again and again with little rest and without gratitude so as to ease the lives of his more favored children.

Raising it over his head Perturabo spoke again, his voice a coarse whisper, "Iron Within." And with that he brought the hammer down with all him might on the wretched stone token crushing it into fine, bitter dust.

"Iron Without."


End file.
